Innocent and Suicidal
by Primrose Masen Weasley
Summary: Gemma Script, a suicidal girl with a dark past. Innocent and alone she meets Jasper Whitlock, married vampire in a happy family. Jasper feels a tug at his cold heart, and Gemma falls in love with the wrong guy. Rated T because I'm paranoid.


Hey guys, I dont know why this writing is so big however, I do know that I may rename this story in future as can't come up with original one.

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Chapter 1

"The weeks or months or years of their life were as important as mine and yours, and the difference that they made will be remembered for all of time," The preacher said. "People say that we'd get over grief quicker if we just went back to normal life.

"Earl Grollman once said 'Grief is not a disorder, a disease or sign of weakness. It is an emotional, physical and spiritual necessity, the price you pay for love. The only cure for grief is to grieve.'

"We have lost a loved one, but we have gained the extra care from god." He continued. I'd had enough. I stood up from my seat and many people turned to look at me.

"God doesn't care!" I shouted. "He never did! If he cared, why are they dead? Why are my father and little brother dead?" I had tears running down my cheeks.

"Gemma! Sit back down now! You insolent child!" Shouted my grandmother.

"Why?" I asked, my voice cracking, I sounded miserable, which I was. "Because I'm making a scene, making you look bad?" My voice was a bit quieter. "Don't worry, I don't plan on staying with you any longer!" I got up, not knowing where I was going, but not feeling forgiving. I ran from the room out into the rain. I slowed down to a walk and started up the road.

They're dead. All of them. That wasn't the first funeral I'd been to. Oh no, I went to my mothers, despite dear grandmas wishes. She had said suicide was a cowards death, but I knew different. Suicide isn't a cowards way out. She didn't kill herself because she wanted to die. She wanted to get away from the voices. From the pain.

I know because they started talking to me too. I'd do anything to get rid of them. I tried telling grandma about them. That's when she started beating me. That's when I started self harming. She didn't notice the blood on my wrists or the bruises. She just thought she did it.

My black knee length dress hung heavily around my body. I was freezing to death, being as I was completely soaked, I shivered.

The cemetery.

My mums grave was here. I tried moving the heavily rusted, slippery black gates, but the iron just clanked together. I let out a frustrated a sigh and started looking for another way in. There was a low point in the brick wall and I walked over to it, again finding myself annoyed because I was wearing ballet flats.

Stupid, the voice muttered.

I carried on anyways, trying to fit my foot into the hole. On the fourth try I didn't slip. I quickly lifted myself over, feeling a little self conscious because my dress rode up while I climbed. I, quite graciously, landed on both feet and a twig snapped. My head shot up, seeing no one in the graveyard. I searched for my mother's grave as quietly as possible. It was a dark grave, and I hated that, that my mothers body lay under ground. I sat down as quietly as I could, kneeling in front of her grave. I cleared my throat and wiped my matted brown hair from my face.

"Hi, mum... I came to visit you, finally... I know I haven't been a great person. I mean, I've mutilated my own arms!" I let out a sadistic sounding laugh.  
"Cameron's dead. Dad's dead; not that I care, I couldn't stand to look at him, after what he did to you. But what I don't understand, is why he did that. Don't try and tell me that it was an accident, that he didn't mean too. He crashed the car on purpose, he killed Cameron on purpose, mum! Don't tell me its fine!" I looked at her grave, daring her to tell me it was. She didn't. "Look, I know I haven't been the greatest daughter, with cutting and hurting myself, but you haven't been the greatest parent. Have you? You knew what you were leaving me to! Leaving him to...to..to- Just forget it! If you're looking down on me, if God's looking down on me, you'll already know." I shifted, the lace dress sleeves scratching my cut, making a stinging sensation I usually revel in. But know all I feel is disgust. I feel like a horrible person. "He whipped Cameron, mum." I whispered. "He whipped and beat and abused him, and when I tried to stop him, I got five times worse, but I did anyways. I tried to stop him everyday. Some days I even dared to hide his beer, so instead of...of, doing stuff to me, he'd just beat me harder instead. Which was so much better." I kept whispering on, "My own father violated me in an irreversible way!" I shouted suddenly, and frightened birds flew from their trees like rockets, taking off into the air.

"Where were you? When everything was falling apart! The walls came crashing down when you left!" I quietened down, so I was talking in a hoarse, shaky voice.

"I realise that you couldn't take the pain, but did you have to leave me behind? We couldn't ran away together, you me and Cameron... We could of had a life, a happy one, where nobody is covered in cuts and bruises. That's all I ever wanted. All I'll ever want. But I can't go back to the mental hospital. And I'm never going back to the old hag that we call grandmother. I think I'll go drown myself in the waterfall actually. Maybe I'll live a little and hang myself," I carried on listing ways to die, in a cheerful voice. "Ooh, I could shoot myself, I could walk around dark alleys and wait for a monster like father to have his way with me, then hopefully he'll violently tear my limbs off and arrange me into a pretty picture. I could jump of a cliff or-"

"Stop it." Said a voice. I didn't even flinch, knowing it was a voice from my head. A handsome voice at that, all southern-y.

"Why should I?" I asked the voice.

"Because its horrible." Said the voice. I was a bit shocked at the answer, after all, the voices in my head would usually be suggesting the ideas their selves.

"Don't you want me to die?" I asked quizzically.

"No." The voice a sounded louder now. I was starting to get prickles up my neck, hairs standing up on my arms.

"What?" I asked.

"No. I don't want you to die." I laughed at that.

"You're just a voice in my head, you want me to die. Trust me."

"I'm not a voice in your head, sugar." Pet names, that was new.

"Prove it." I said defiantly. It wasn't real. The voice was just an illusion.

"Turn around." So I did. I didn't question the voice in my head, I didn't think for a second to hesitate.

Imagine my surprise when I'm greeted by a boy.

"Hey." He said, plopping down on the ground next to me, close enough that I could touch him if I wanted: all I had to do was reach out, to see if he was real. He saw the shock on my face and chuckled. I shuffled back a few paces, looking at him astonishment.

"Darling," He said reproachful. "I'm not gonna hurt you." His voice was quiet.

"You sure? Because that's along the lines of my fathers favourite sentence."

"I'm not," Said the boy. He was blonde and handsome and the object of a lot of girls fantasies, with gold eyes and a smile that could light up this whole town. His red lips looked amazing. But who is he?

Why not? The voice said. He may or may not be a monster. He could just be a illusion or cruel hallucination, designed to mess you up... The voice carried on taunting me.

"Why are you here?" I asked curiously, the rain still pelting hard on my skin. He froze for a second, not even that, and I wondered if he was having a twitch.

"I'm visiting my mothers grave, Jocelyn Whitlock." He said. He didn't seem bothered or upset about it.

"I'm sorry, its rude to pry." I shifted again, the lace scratching my cuts. I almost sighed from content. He frowned, but quickly put his smile back on. "My mum's dead too." I added.

"I know." He said. I didn't question him, just decided that he really was a hallucination. He wouldn't know otherwise.

"Well, it was nice meeting you, but I really need to leave before the she-devil finds me and takes me back to the hospital, I really can't go again." I told him awkwardly, getting up from the stone and feeling water dripping from my back.

"Wait!" The boy said. "Come with me, my family would love you. Then you won't have to go back to the ,'she-devil' or the asylum." I swear, if I had something in my hands, I would have dropped it. The hallucination just asked me to go with him, and meet his imaginary family.

After a few minutes of thinking, I decided nothing terribly bad could come from this situation. "Fine." I said. He looked up shocked. He then proceeded to smile brightly at me.

"I'm Jasper Whitlock, a new friend." He introduced.

"Gemma Script." I said. "Where are we going?" I asked.

"Well, we're going to Canada!" He said happily.

"Hallucinations don't just take people to Canada!" I protested immediately.

"No." He agreed. "But vampires do." He looked at me, and not even I expected my reaction. I started laughing hysterically, gasping and panting as I choked on my own laughter. He stared blatantly at me for a while, watching me laugh.

"Prove it." I said, recovering from my violent, hilarious giggle attack. "Prove your not my imagination set out to kill me. And I'll go with you, no questions asked." He contemplated my proposition, me still giggling a bit when suddenly, I felt really tired.

"Didn't your Mama tell you its rude to put people to sleep without their express permission or exact instructions?" I asked, prying my heavy lids open long enough to squint at him through the rain. He was smiling!

"Okay, I'll go with you, but this doesn't prove you're a vampire!" I said sleepily. "Now wake me up properly!"

"It's okay, if you want you can sleep, if I carry you we'll get there faster anyway." He assured in his oh-so-sexy southern voice. I mentally slapped myself, no calling hallucinations sexy Missy!

"I'm offended good sir!" I said dramatically, fake swooning, my hand on my forehead, when I was hit with a dizzy spell and toppled backwards. Or I would have, if he wasn't there so fast. He slipped his arms around my neck and under my knees, and I clutched onto his shirt.

"Okay, Vampire, take me to Canada!" I giggled a I told him, half asleep, arms flailing in wild sweeping gestures. He chuckled and my eyes slowly closed in the rain, and I finally realised how cold I actually was. I slipped from the ledge into a pool of darkness.


End file.
